


While You Were Dreaming

by My_Dear_Watson



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, No Cult AU, Really vague smut that doesn't get anywhere in chapter 1, it was all a dream au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: In which the war with the Cult was all an extremely bad nightmare/coping mechanism for a very anxious soon-to-be-Deputy, John's her boyfriend who's eager to hear "yes" to an entirely different question, Jacob's just a very intense personal trainer, Faith is an unnaturally bubbly florist, and Joseph's a motivational speaker by day, front man to the folk band Eden's Gate by night. And she and John are about to host the first joint "meet the family" get togethers- which might as well be the Apocalypse, as far as they're concerned.





	While You Were Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "John/Deputy Nic: "How to Kill the Mood 101" on Tumblr. It very much got away with me once I realized I could very loosely apply it to this idea that I've been bouncing around. Also, while this is Nic, but it doesn't go along with New Divide by any means.

**_Only youuuuuu-_ **

Nicolette Raylan bolted upright in bed. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she was absolutely drenched in sweat. Her vision was still spotted red, the image of the 'Sheriff' still ingrained in her vision even after blinking a few times. 

She looked accusingly beside her at the alarm clock that was blasting that damned song.

It was a dream. A _horrifying nightmare_ of a dream, but a dream all the same.

 _Good Christ, my subconscious_.

She had known her life was getting complicated to process without her imagination, but that had been much. She closed her eyes, covered her face with her hands and sighed deeply. “What the _fuck_?”

She was home. She was in bed. She was safe. No cult, no holy war, no impending Collapse- nothing. How the Hell had a dream managed to feel that long? She remembered everything so vividly. She knew every single person in that dream but they weren’t who they really were. It was _The Wizard of Oz_ from Hell. 

There was suddenly a weight by her hip and hands covered her own.

“There you are, Sleepyhead. It’s about time, that damn alarm’s gone off five times now. Why do you even like that song, anyway?” the owner of the hands asked.

“I’m never listening to it again,” she replied.

The hands holding hers pulled them away from her face. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter in response. 

There was a brush of lips against hers for a few seconds before there was an actual kiss.

 _"Say yes_.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I’ve been awake a matter of seconds and you’re already at this again?” It had been one of the first things out of his mouth every damned day since the semi-failed proposal, but this was extreme, even for him.

“It’s just _one word_.”

Her smile faltered again. His obsession with that word lately had even crossed into her subconscious. _Damn it_.  “Oh, I get the speech again? It’s one word and a _lifetime of commitment_ , John.”

She opened her eyes to look at her boyfriend- or _future fiancé_ if he had anything to say about it.

He looked a lot less insane than last she saw him _bleeding out in her arms_ in that damned dream.

Her stomach twisted in response. He had been nothing but patient lately-another thing that was unlike his usual behavior, and her subconscious had turned him into a mustache twirling villain who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And then she had fucking murdered him. Her therapist was going to make a _fortune_ when she talked about this dream alone.

They had been dating for the better part of three years and living together for four months. They had met through work contacts, he had been far more taken with her than she was with him first- he was a little too arrogant for her, but he had charmed his way into her heart, even if it had started more as weaseling his way in early on. He had proposed two weeks prior, and she had asked for time to think on it. He had accepted. It had made for some tension between them considering that he was hardly a patient man, but they had managed. She still came home to his ranch after work and curled up in bed with him.

She did love him, but watching most of her family fall to ugly divorces and the like did nothing for her feelings on the topic.

John understood and respected that, but he was nothing if not tenacious- the very thing Other Him had called her. The very thing that had been his driving force in getting her to say yes in the real world.

At least in hindsight that made the whole Atonement fiasco with the church decked out like it was hosting a wedding _funny_. _Sort of. Not really._ **_Shit._ **

She glanced back up at him, and judging by the expectant, loving look he was giving her, it was no wonder him giving her the same look had nearly broken her in that dream. She felt him go to pull away and she practically shot up in order to lock her arms around his neck to keep him there. “Stay,” she insisted.

“We’ve got things to do,” he teased.

She groaned again, then brought her knees up to his hips, locked him in place there and ground up against him. She needed a fucking distraction, and he always provided in that department.

Sure enough, he immediately groaned and leaned into her. “No, we don’t,” he corrected himself and immediately kissed her again.

Well, at least Real John and Dream John had similar priorities in wanting her, Nicolette mused. She scooted down in order to pull at the T-shirt he was wearing- she sort of suddenly missed the button up, vest and jeans combo- and all but yanked it off of him. He did the same to hers, tossing both into the corner of the room.

John trailed a line of kisses  from her mouth, down her neck, to her chest and down to her stomach, then hooked his fingers into her shorts and underwear, pulling them down as he went. He continued on his path, lower, lower, _lower_ -

She yelped at the first pass of his tongue along her slit and arched into him.

He reached up to lay a hand on her stomach to keep her down. He looked up at her-

And the moment was immediately _ruined._

There was that other look he- at the Confession when he had checked her out with no shame whatsoever. He had given her the same look countless times when they were awake, and now it was weirdly tainted- at least for now.  She wanted to cry. Usually nightmares had never put her through so much bullshit, but… that was the heaviest nightmare of her life. If this fucking dream ruined their sex life- Hell, their _relationship_ , she didn’t know what she was going to do. “Stop.”

John must’ve sensed something wrong, because he didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately looked up, propped his chin up on her thigh and waited.

She wanted to tell him everything. He had that effect on her- probably why he had been _the Baptist- the fucking Inquisitor_ in the fucked up little dreamland her imagination had come up with. 

Nicolette swallowed hard and reached down to thread her fingers through his. “I love you. You know that right?”

He squinted at her. “Of course I do.  What’s this about?"

He looked worried after a moment, and her heart broke all over again. Her subconscious had changed just about everything but family history in his life. So the fact that she had just rejected him and looked lost when she told him she loved him was probably doing wonders for his abandonment issues. _Fuck_. And it wasn't like she could even tell him what her change in mood was really was about. Even leaving out his part in that dream was grounds enough for shattering his heart into a billion pieces, considering the rest could've clearly meant that his family scared the shit out of her. And they did. Very much. Which, considering one was her boyfriend, the other was her former too-demanding personal trainer and the other one was some full time motivational speaker, part-time front man to a folk band Eden’s Gate, made the whole dream fucking ridiculous but no less horrifying. She realized he was still looking at her expectantly. “And... you love me, right?”

John moved up her body so he could lean on her stomach. “ _Yes_. You know, this is the paranoia that usually comes on _the wedding day_. After someone’s said _yes_. You haven’t even gotten that far yet.”

She sat up. “It’s not because I don’t… I just… how mad will you be if I say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?”

John stared at her then sighed. “ ‘How to Kill the Mood 101’ taught by professor Nicolette Raylan…” he mused, then, far more guarded, just on the cusp of anger: “If this is you breaking up wi-”

“It’s not!” she blurted. “It’s not, I just…” _do a white lie_ , part of her suggested. “I had a dream. We had a fight, I lost you.”

John studied her face for a bit, and Nicolette knew that he knew she was lying. Still, he bounced back with an easy smile. “Never. You’re stuck with me. But if _you_ could make that official, that would be great.”

She sighed. It was true. She was being ridiculous, it had been a dream, a trick of the mind, _deal with it._ She leaned up to kiss him again, relieved when he met her halfway and returned it. “Give me time. Just gotta… sort shit out first. Really think about things."

“Like what?” John asked.

“That I’m still stunned that I’m a goddamn office temp that makes thirty grand a year if I’m lucky, might work for my dad soon, and you’re a hot shot lawyer rolling in money, five of my old apartments could fit into your fucking house, you come from this… tight knit, very, very religious family and mine’s just… the mother of all nuclear families to the point we make the Brady Bunch look tiny and we’re about as non-religious as you can get. It's just… it’s a lot to consider.”

“And… remind me how that isn’t ‘it’s _you_ , not _me_ ’?” John asked.

“Because I’m an anxious fool who can’t explain anything worth shit?” Nicolette countered.

John smirked. “At least you can admit it,” he kissed her again, then flopped down next to her on the bed. “You know, we actually do have things to do.”

“Yeah? Like?”

“Prepping for the chili cook-off that was _your idea_. Getting those families of ours that’re apparently causing you so much grief to meet.”

She bolted upright again, nearly throwing him off of her. She had forgotten about that. And that explained a Hell of a lot about that dream, too. And Sharky’s strange tangent about such an event. God, Sharky had been the most consistent thing from dream to reality. She felt like that said a lot about her life and the company she kept. “Shit. Shit!” she scrambled for the dresser and dug through the drawers. Once she found what she was looking for, she yanked on new underwear and jeans and threw one of his shirts on.

John scoffed. “You’re that invested in this?”

Nicolette sighed. “It’s the first time I’m meeting your family-”

“You’ve met Jacob and Faith.”

“No, I _trained_ with Jacob, and he almost made me cry on several occasions. And I’ve talked to Faith on the phone for holidays. And I’ve only ever really seen Joseph when I’m channel surfing. This is… I’m meeting them as _your girlfriend_. If this doesn’t go well, it’s gonna be like the…” _Apocalypse_ , she realized. She was going for ‘ _the Apocalypse_ ’- that dream hadn't been fucking around. She tried not to let out a giddy, uncomfortable laugh. “It ain’t gonna end well.”

“And if it doesn’t, I’ll be waiting right here with the pint of Ben and Jerry’s,” John countered- his usual schtick whenever she liked being overdramatic.

She picked up his discarded shirt from before and threw it at him. “Come on. You’re cleaning the bathroom.”

John sat up and pulled the shirt on. “I have a cleaning lad-”

“Not this weekend, you don’t, it’s all us. Already called Cady and told her to take a couple of days off.”

He blinked at her a couple of times. “ _Really_?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Not the ‘yes’ I was looking to get this morning.”

“Yeah, you missed out on a couple of good ones.”

“Oh, _fuck you._ ”

She laughed, then she walked down the hallway to the main part of the house. She shrieked when there were rushed footsteps behind her, then a couple of moments later he had her over one shoulder and headed for the kitchen.

She smacked his shoulder blades lightly, secretly relieved at how well that had gone, considering. The damned dream was still fresh in her mind, and it was going to take a while to get over, but at least they could survive it… or most likely could, anyway.

Now, her surviving _the next seventy-two hours_? That was the big question.


End file.
